The Secret Life of Colby Granger
by AmyD and Suisan
Summary: Granger has another life away from the FBI and his two worlds are about to collide.
1. Chapter 1

**The Secret Life of Colby Granger**

By: Suisan (w/asst by Amy D)

Numb3rs Fandom

**Synopsis**: Granger has another life away from the FBI -- his two worlds are about to collide.

**A/N**: The title is somewhat borrowed/paraphrased from James Thurber. This story totally ignores events of The Janus List (season 3 episode 24) but ties into the events of the stories of "_Heat Wave_" & "_Arsenic and New Kevlar_" by Amy D. and myself.

**Warnings**: You want warnings, go somewhere else … seriously. I write adult language stories for adult or mature readers. There is, without a doubt, characters cussing like cops in this story - and probably some innuendo of a sexual nature as well. If that sort of thing 'bothers' you, I suggest you stop reading right now and never read anything else with my name attached to it.

Was that enough of a warning for you?

* * *

Part One

* * *

The first of his injuries - mostly bruises to his torso - were fairly easy to hide, if not shake off. Thankfully the cases the team had recently worked had required more cerebral activity than physical, or he would've been totally screwed. This one wouldn't be so easy to explain, maybe he could explain it away by saying he'd helped out a damsel in distress at some club and at the hands of a bruiser of an asshole. No, that wouldn't work; his boss would want to know why a police report wasn't filed. Truth be known, he'd been hurt far worse in the past, but this one was too obvious to hide and he was thankful it wasn't his gun hand. Using his good hand, he punched the call button for the elevator, just as he identified - without looking over his shoulder - the agent coming up behind him in the parking garage. She'd always had a nice, easily measured stride and never wore any shoes that might keep her from responding to a scene.

"Morning, Reeves."

"Morn'in, Grange--" Agent Megan Reeves greeting came to a dead halt when she spotted the all too white bandage on his left hand and the metal finger cot doing it's best to hook on everything in sight. "What the hell did you do?"

"You mean this?" He waved his injured hand in the air, immediately regretting the action - it hurt, and responded to her question. "Just a minor sprain." The elevator arrived and he waved her on ahead of him, happy to let her take control of the conveyance. "I was practicing a new take down and hold with Special Agent Undiano and forgot to tap out in time." He was fairly confident Undiano, the local Unarmed Combat Instructor, would cover for him … after all, that's who he had been fighting with at the time. Only it wasn't really _unarmed_ combat.

Reeves nodded sympathetically. "Accidents happen. Here's hoping we don't get a really active case and Don doesn't rip you a new one for being too stubborn to tap out before you got hurt." She led the way off the elevator and walked into their cubicle area.

Their team leader wasn't there, but the other primary member of their lead group was and no one ever accused David Sinclair of not being quick to assess a situation. "Damn, Colby. Piss off your date this weekend?"

"Ha-ha. Don't I just wish?" He retorted as he took a seat at his desk and realized even simple tasks, like logging onto his computer terminal, was going to be a bit tricky. Letting out a sigh, he dropped his left hand into his lap and tried to type his user name and password in with one hand. After a few attempts, he pulled open a desk drawer and hunted for a pencil.

"Problem, Granger?" Colby looked up to see Supervisory Special Agent Don Eppes peering over the Plexiglas cubicle divider at him.

"I …" He brought his hand above the desk so Don could see the torture device the medical staff had thrown on his hand after the initial injury.

"I heard about that." The grin crossing Eppes' face made him want to smack the older agent. "Ran into Undiano outside of the usual morning security brief, she said she'd managed to injure one of my agents, didn't think it would be you though."

"Well, even the best screws up once in a while, Boss." He leaned back as Don came around and, after shoo'ing him out of the way, logged Colby onto the system, using the correct user name and his most recent password. "Damn, guess I need to change that again, huh?"

"Not until after you're healed, Granger." Don grabbed his ubiquitous cup of coffee from where he'd set it down and crossed over his desk in the quad-shaped cubicle area. "Don't worry, I won't say a word to your supervisor about the 'questionable' screensaver you somehow managed to sneak past our information technology weasels' firewalls."

"You're all heart, Eppes."

"Yeah, yeah… I'm such a softie. Now, finish up that report from last Friday's interviews and don't forget to get in touch with pathology to see if they have any results back on that substance we sent them."

A few rounds of cussing, brought on by not remembering that his left thumb was sticking out at a right angle from his hand and was encased in padded aluminum, Colby asked his boss for an hour of personal time and got it. He used the time wisely by swinging by Maggie Undiano's office, thanking the agent for the cover story and promising to keep his fingers out of the way of her off-hand sword in their next practice. He then ran out to see his personal physician who removed the offensive wrap and metal finger cot and sent Colby back to work without the stay and only a light ace wrap hugging his hand.

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Wednesday afternoon, three hours after having his team assist LAPD take down a serial rapist - with Granger starting to sport a new and spectacular set of bruises - and all was right in Don Eppes' world. His computer 'dinged' at him and Don pulled open his email account to see a new missive, with an attachment, waiting in the in box from Granger - who was shutting down his computer and slinging his lightweight jacket on over his FBI golf shirt and khaki-colored Dockers.

"Don, I sent my report to your email and sent a copy of it to records as well."

"You going somewhere, Granger?" Don asked and watched as Colby's face harden into a 'no-not-really-but-you're-seriously-cramping-my-style' mask.

"Yeah, but if you need me to stay…"

Don thought about giving Granger some scut work, a minor but irritating way to remind the younger agent that the FBI wasn't in the habit of using trashcan lids as Frisbees to take down fleeing felons. He observed Granger as the younger man started to twitch in an effort not to glance at his watch or the clock on the wall behind Don's desk. The seconds seemed to crawl and the minutes turned into hours through some strange entropic effect that he was sure Larry Fleinhardt could explain and Charlie Eppes would be all too willing to prove using high-end mathematics.

"Nah, get out of here and go enjoy your time with whoever." Don waved him off and Colby practically sprinted toward the elevator bank and the car whose door was just starting to close. Don turned to Megan Reeves, who had watched the whole thing between him and Colby with one hand over her mouth and the other trying to scratch something out on a legal pad. "Didn't have to tell him to go twice. You have any idea who, or what, Granger is so hot to get to every Wednesday evening, Megan?"

"Nope." She dropped the pen on the desk and removed her glasses, using them to push her long hair back out of her face. "And, before you ask, I already cornered David about it and he doesn't have a clue either, just told me that Wednesdays evenings and every third weekend it's very difficult to get a hold of Colby at home."

"Every Wednesday and some weekends?" Don didn't think that sounded 'normal' but Granger was prior Army and the local units were starting to rotate home … "You don't suppose he's doing some USO work at LAX, do you?"

Sinclair walked up just then, fresh from a run to the break room and holding - carefully - three steaming cups of very fragrant coffee. "USO? No. I checked into that the first time I managed to tail him, purely by accident, two weeks ago. He drove out toward LAX, but I somehow lost him in the El Segundo area."

"El Segundo?" Don thought for a minute, "Wait … Granger told me he managed to find a really nice apartment out in Manhattan Beach, maybe it's totally innocent that he's hightailing it outta here every Wednesday." He really couldn't fault Colby for moving from his first place, even if he couldn't afford it at the time; staying in the place you nearly died because of an insane writer of a neighbor, Don was pretty sure he would've moved too.

Megan shook her head. "That makes no sense, Don. Granger just moved to that apartment two weeks ago and he's been cutting out of here as early as possible on Wednesdays for well over 3 months."

Don thought about that. "Huh. I wonder what her name is then and if she's got an older sister." He had to duck the pen that came flying at him from Reeves' direction.

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Thinking she would work out some of her stress on the punching bag in the agency's in-house gymnasium, Megan Reeves slipped into the women's locker room, changed into her judo gi, and stepped into the gym while tying up her hair into a ponytail. She hadn't expected to find anyone else in the workout area and, thus, was a little surprised to find Granger in there, working on a furious set of reps on one of the four Nautilus weight machines. It was late on a Wednesday evening, actually approaching 10 P.M., and Granger had a habit of disappearing on hump-day nights.

He didn't seem to notice he was no longer alone in the gym, so Megan took a few minutes to silently observe the youngest member of her team. She'd have to be blind not to notice the Granger's physique, especially as she'd seen him in her Krav Maga classes a few times after he had discovered she taught the martial art discipline. However, it never really occurred to her just how he managed to find time to lift the weights he'd need to maintain his muscle tone. Now she knew. Or thought she did. Wherever it was that Colby disappeared to on Wednesdays working out in a gym was probably part of it. She already knew he was more than a little obsessive about maintaining fitness, so it would stand to reason that even on a night where their case load spilled over into personal time, he'd manage to squeeze in a weight session, somehow and somewhere.

_'Hell, the fact that he can still _move_ after taking a couple of rounds into his vest…'_ Megan had been impressed at the scene when, after taking two slugs to the ballistic covering on his chest, Granger had only taken a minute to catch his breath, then tore off after David and a LA County Sheriff's officer who had taken off in foot pursuit of his shooter. From what Sinclair had told her, it had been _Colby_ who'd caught up to the fleeing perp, tackled him, then wrestled him into a set of cuffs before handing the guy off to David and sat down, hard and fast, on the ground.

That had scared everyone on the team. She knew of cases where body armor's ballistic plates had slowed, but not stopped, rounds and she was positive Don knew about those cases as well, especially considering how fast he was on the radio calling for a medic after Colby went down. One of the HRT medics came over to check on the former Army man, but Colby waved him off saying he was just winded, which caused Don to _order_ his agent to get checked out by the Medic, who then escorted Granger off to where the ambulance was parked on stand-by.

Moving around to where the punching bag was, that it would also conveniently place her where she could see Granger's chest - especially as he was working out in a very loose tank top of the 'wifebeater' style - was just an added bonus. That's when she spotted the bruise that seemed out of place on his upper torso. Noticing that he was lifting the weights with his eyes closed, Megan had to clear her throat fairly loudly to get his attention.

"Hey, Megan. You need to work off some steam too?" Colby asked as he let the weights come to a rest and changed position on the bench to start another set before she could stop him.

"Nice bruise there, Granger."

"Yeah, well, getting hit by a couple of .38 slugs does tend to tenderize a body. Even if the body is wearing a protective vest."

She walked up behind him, cognizant of the thought that he'd turned away from her on purpose, and tapped him on the shoulder, just above the contusion that had caught her attention. "I wasn't talking about those bruises, where did this one come from?"

Colby looked over his shoulder, the bruised one, to look at her. "Can you just forget you saw that, Reeves? It's not connected to the case and I already had a devil of time convincing Tim Ryan of that."

Ryan, she knew, was the Hostile Response Tactical Team's Medic and had been the FBI medic on the scene earlier that night. "I don't blame him, it's a nasty looking contusion." Megan moved around to where she could see the discoloration head on and traced what looked like a wound in the center of the bruise. "A bite mark? Colby, you rat! No wonder Tim wouldn't let you rest until you confessed!"

Granger, she noted, had the decency to blush now that she'd caught him. "Yeah, well, Mom raised her boys not to kiss and tell, ya know?"

Megan shook her head as she walked away from Colby and, after stretching out her arms and upper shoulders, started punching the hell out of the workout bag. "I just hope she was worth the pain that forming that bruise required."

"A gentleman never tells, Reeves." With that, Colby stood up from the Nautilus and padded off to the men's locker room, leaving Megan to ponder how in the hell any woman could get that much of Granger's flesh between her teeth and not leave actual teeth impressions.

She stopped punching the bag as a thought sprang to mind. "Larry's had a bruise like that before … " Shaking her head to derail that train of thought, Megan returned to the workout she desperately needed. Maybe after she was done, if Larry was still awake, she'd call in one of her wild cards and ask him about that old contusion while they shared a nice, long soak in a hot tub.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Secret Life of Colby Granger**

By: Suisan (w/Asst from AmyD)

Numb3rs Fandom

**Synopsis**: Granger has another life away from the FBI -- his two worlds are about to collide.

**A/N**: The title is somewhat borrowed/paraphrased from James Thurber. This story totally ignores events of The Janus List (season 3 episode 24) but ties into the events of the stories of "_Heat Wave_" & "_Arsenic and New Kevlar_" by Amy D. and myself.

**Warnings**: You want warnings, go somewhere else … seriously. I write adult language stories for adult or mature readers. There is, without a doubt, characters cussing like cops in this story - and probably some innuendo of a sexual nature as well. If that sort of thing 'bothers' you, I suggest you stop reading right now and never read anything else with my name attached to it.

Was that enough of a warning for you?

* * *

Part Two

* * *

_'Why did I agree yesterday that I wouldn't need Granger today?'_ Don thought to himself as he tailed their suspect to a secluded park. He had to drop back further when he realized the perp was getting out of his vehicle, hauling a large and unwieldy-looking bag, and then trotted over to a covered pavilion where there was a fairly largish gathering of other people. Looping around the park's designated parking areas, Don finally found one he liked and backed his SUV into the slot so he could watch the perp out his front window.

Because he'd given in to Granger's sad-sack, hang-dog expression yesterday, Don had been forced to help his team tail their current suspect and that had meant canceling a date with Liz, who was back to working full time in the organized crime unit. If he'd ignored Granger's pleading looks, he would be out enjoying the lovely weather somewhere with Liz and Colby would be the one sitting here watching as grown men and a few women started putting on … armor?

Don groaned and slid further down into the driver's seat. He'd had more than his fair share of experiences with members of the Society for Creative Anachronism when he was in college … usually having to dodge the silly cretins in armor as they held fighter practice in the quad he had to cross to get to the baseball fields for a real sports practice. Sitting in his car watching as men and women belted and whaled on each other with swords, axes, shields and other ancient weaponry was not his idea of fun.

At least if he'd been Colby, a young agent raised in rural Idaho, who probably hadn't seen an SCA fighter practice or event, he might actually enjoy watching the group going through the motions of combat. Maybe. Don seriously doubted it. Colby Granger had a pretty intense combat record during his stint in the United States Army, watching amateurs muck about playing war would probably grate on the younger man's nerves like it was currently grating on his.

Mister Perp, a shady lawyer with possible ties to one of the many drug cartels out of Columbia who may have recently gotten his hands 'wet', was busy showing another fighter a technique that would be totally lethal if the swords they were using were real. After watching the group for about 30 minutes, Don got on his cell phone and called David Sinclair to come and take his place. Just as the younger agent pulled into the park's entrance, Don pulled out of his parking slot and left David to discover the joys of watching silly cretins in armor.

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The shady lawyer from the Silver Lake district proved to be one slippery sonuvabitch, Don and his team had worked their butts off getting the information and evidence together to nail the man on one murder charge, only to discover that he was tied into more than that. Unfortunately by the time everything fell into place and they were ready to go arrest the soon-to-be-ex lawyer, they'd come up hard against one of the weekends that Granger had requested off months before.

If Don had been of a more suspicious nature, or if he hadn't rebuilt trust with Colby after the Carter Incident, Don might have thought Granger had done this to the team on purpose. But, to be fair, Granger had put in the request for this weekend off within a week of returning from Idaho after going home to recuperate from Mad Hattie MacPherson's attempted murder of his person and Don had been in a generous mood and granted the request without really looking at it.

Now he, Megan, David and a few extra FBI agents were in the process of tracking down the lawyer, to put the _habeas grabus_ on him, through a throng of armor and truly vintage-looking clothing as they wandered through the grounds of the Crown Tourney for the local SCA Kingdom.

'_How in the hell are we supposed to ID the man if he's wearing a full-face helmet of armor?_' Don bitched mentally as he continued to look around the various fighting areas - called lists here - and trying to spy Mister Dirty And Shady. He also tried to ignore the many times he smelled the distinctive odor of burning cannabis wafting on the breeze.

"Anything?" Don asked of Megan when he caught up to her on the far side of the Single Sword list/field after nearly two hours of searching.

"Nothing. Don, we're going to need more people. This is a lot bigger than I thought it would be, there has to be well over 5000 people here."

Don nodded in agreement, the crowd was more than either of them had anticipated and the handful of agents they had to help hunt down Eduardo Rojas, Esq. wasn't going to be enough. Indicating the area reserved for the various food vendors, he extended an invitation to his second in command. "You ready for lunch yet?"

"Please! I've been dying for a scotch egg ever since I passed the booth over an hour ago!" Megan actually led the way to the booth in question and, after tasting one of the treats she handed him, Don had to admit the meat encrusted hard-boiled egg was quite tasty, but he needed something more substantial and purchased a turkey leg. After finding a clear picnic table, Don sat down to tackle his meal while Megan wandered off to continue her search for Rojas.

Taking the time to just scan the passing crowds from a central location, Don realized that not everyone at the event was in costume. Several were dressed as normally as could be and just enjoying the colorful atmosphere and the various events … including the kids who seemed to really enjoy the puppet and old magic shows put on by wandering entertainers. His meal complete and his stomach tamed, Don put the napkins and now empty coffee cup into a nearby trash barrel and prepared himself to continue his search. Only he decided he wanted something a little sweet to chase the taste of turkey.

Stopping by a drink vendor's tent, Don purchased a cup of "mild" - read non-alcoholic - spiced apple cider before heading over the dry and dusty area where the silly cretins in armor had pitched their tents. '_One more hour and a pass through the fighter's prep area before I call in reinforcements. And Granger. Why should our weekend be the only one ruined?_'

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He'd lost track of time, but the demonstration on the field was - Don reluctantly admitted to himself - a beautiful thing to watch. Two well matched fighters going at each other with sword and shield and while it didn't seem to last forever, when he finally checked his watch he'd realized the mock fight had gone on well over 20 minutes and had ended only once one fighter had lost his shield, then had been 'injured' in such a way that he was fighting from his knees. Yet, amazingly, it had been the injured fighter who'd been declared the winner of the bout after a seriously twisty move that had made Don's back ache just watching the guy pull it off.

Cursing his momentary lapse of attention to the job at hand, Don pulled his cell phone out of it's holster on his belt and dialed the number to Granger's cell phone from memory. The first attempt to reach his agent went directly to the man's voice mail and Don disconnected in frustration. Even in the middle of the night, or on his regular days off duty, Colby never failed to answer his cell phone. Never. Whatever the younger agent was doing this weekend had caused him to deviate from that steady routine, leaving Don and the rest of the team in the lurch.

Disgusted with the situation in general, and himself in particular, Don dialed up the central dispatch center and requested a couple more teams of agents be briefed and sent out to his location to help track down and arrest Eduardo Rojas.

'_Ladies, Lords, serfs of all ages … The fighters of the sword and shield demonstration, Sir Luitger von Heilwig and his Man at Arms, Fionn Macumhal, thank you for your applause and admiration. May I now direct your attention back to the center list where Lady Marguerite de Leon de Luis-Vega of Lyondemere will demonstrate, along with Sir Cathaoir Fridrikssen - also of Lyondemere, that most dangerous skills -- the Florentine!'_

His attention caught by the announcement of a lady fighter taking the field, Don didn't pay close consideration to what buttons he was hitting on his cell phone as he called Granger's number again. At least that is what he told himself later. Three rings and the call was picked up, but not by Granger.

_'Hello?'_

"Larry? I'm sorry, I must have hit your cell by mistake…." Don started to apologize, then remembered, after coming back from his NASA mission, Larry had quickly divested himself of the cell phone he'd been required to purchase before being given the 'okay' to join the shuttle crew. "Wait a minute, _Larry_? What are you doing answering Granger's cell?" He kept one eye on the field where the female fighter in what looked to be chain mail was clearly holding her own against a much larger, yet not overly so, male in leather and metal armor.

_'I heard it ringing and, after seeing it was your name on the display, realized you might need to talk to your agent and as he's rather preoccupied right now … Ow! That'll leave a bruise. Should've ducked that move. Sorry, who am I talking to again?'_

"Don Eppes. Larry -- where is Granger?" Don put a hand over his open ear and still couldn't drown out the sound of two, make that four, swords clanging and whirling through the air.

_'He's busy, Don. And I really cannot interrupt what he's doing for something so mundane as a phone call, no matter how pressing. He really shouldn't have had this in his gear and I really shouldn't have taken up his offer to use his tent to change ... but this damn plate mail gets heavy after a while.' _

_Plate mail?_ Don thought to himself, and then started to put things together. "Larry, what tent are you in? The colors of the flags or banners or whatever you call them?"

_'Oh! Are you here at the Crown Tourney, Don? Are you here to show support for Colby when he gets his official Marshal's card?'_ A sound very much like the phone being dropped rang through the connection and Don waited and prayed Larry didn't forget to pick up the phone. Before that happened, Don heard something that sounded like chains of coke cans hitting the dirt, then Larry's voice came back on the phone. _'Sorry about that, Don. I had to get that armor off. Look for the cream colored tent with the purple, yellow, green, blue and silver streamers attached to the center pole in lieu of a banner.'_

Don didn't have a chance to question the physicist any further before the infuriating, but brilliant, man hung up and left Don holding a dead connection. Thinking quickly, he started walking toward the small tent city he'd been through once already that day and, as he walked, dialed Megan's cell instead of contacting her on the comm. There was no way he was going to broadcast this news to all the agents on the scene.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Secret Life of Colby Granger**

By: Suisan (w/Asst from Amy D)

Numb3rs Fandom

**Synopsis**: Granger has another life away from the FBI -- his two worlds are about to collide.

**A/N**: The title is somewhat borrowed/paraphrased from James Thurber. This story totally ignores events of The Janus List (season 3 episode 24) but ties into the events of the stories of "_Heat Wave_" & "_Arsenic and New Kevlar_" by Amy D. and myself.

**Warnings**: You want warnings, go somewhere else … seriously. I write adult language stories for adult or mature readers. There is, without a doubt, characters cussing like cops in this story - and probably some innuendo of a sexual nature as well. If that sort of thing 'bothers' you, I suggest you stop reading right now and never read anything else with my name attached to it.

Was that enough of a warning for you?

* * *

Part Three

* * *

Megan Reeves and David Sinclair caught up to Don just as he located the rather small tent Larry had told him about. The fluttering ribbons at the top of the tent had helped him find the small pavilion, well, that plus seeing Larry standing outside and dressed in … robes?

"Larry?" Megan called out, her confusion showing in her tone.

"Greetings, Mi'Lady." Larry reached out, took up her hand and kissed it. "And here, I'm Sir Luitger, not Larry or even Lawrence. Well met, Don, David. Your young friend is nearly done and then he'll be over here to change for the awarding of the laurels." He pointed out toward the fighter's field and Don followed the gesture just in time to see the female fighter - literally - knock the helmet off her opponent, which revealed the startled face of one Colby Granger.

"I'll be damned." Was all he could think of to say and from the nods of the others, Don wasn't the only one thinking that. The Referee on the field cried out "**HOLD**" and all action stopped as the ref and the female fighter went over to check on Colby and a quiet, but animated, conversation ensued.

"I warned Sir Cathaoir about Lady Marguerite's off hand sword… oh well. If she's in a forgiving mood, she may allow him to rehelm, otherwise, the demonstration is over." As they watched, Larry explained further. "Maggie doesn't need to be worried, this isn't a fight for her Champion position and Cathaoir has already earned his Marshal's card…" Out on the field, Colby had picked up his helm, placed it back on his head and signaled he was ready to resume the fight. "Oh good! Looks like Cathaoir isn't as hurt as he could have been by that blow. This should be a really interesting fight now."

The burly man acting as Referee stood between the two fighters, looking at each in turn and getting a nod of compliance, then he called out, "Fight!" and moved quickly out of the way as Colby and his female adversary started slinging steel again.

Don stared at the two fighters; not at all ashamed to admit he was worried as he watched the younger agent wielding two swords against a similarly armed opponent in a whirl of slashing and flashing weapons. "I need Granger in one piece! Not hacked into tiny bite sized portions!"

Larry let out a hoot of laughter, disappeared into the tent and came back out with a sword of his own. "Don, it's perfectly safe. The weapons aren't real … Maggie and Colby just used a better form of duct tape to give their weapons a realistic sheen." He handed the 'sword' to Don and the team leader inspected it. From what he could tell, it was a simple wooden core, lightly padded on the edges with foam and then wrapped in tape. It would hurt where it hit, but the most it would do would be to bruise, not cleave skin, muscle and bone like a real sword.

That didn't make the display happening out on the field any less exciting, thrilling or dangerous to Don's eyes. Whomever Lady Marguerite was, she was giving Granger a brutal beating, causing the young man to retreat more than once and, just when Don thought Granger had her, she slipped in under his guard, moved in real damn close and, again, aimed a blow at Colby's head.

A man acting as a Referee yelled out "**HOLD!**" and all action stopped in mid motion and Don realized it wasn't a head shot she'd slipped past Granger's guard, it was a neck hit. "Match to Lady Marguerite! Sir Cathaoir, your armor is forfeit as is your life, should the Lady wish it."

"Ouch, that's harsh." Don muttered. Only to be hushed by David, Megan and Larry.

The female fighter dropped back from her position, placed both of her swords in one hand and removed her helmet with the other. Don wasn't the only Agent on the sidelines to let out a noise of surprise. Agent Maggie Undiano was the woman who'd just soundly defeated Agent Colby Granger with archaic weapons! At that moment, Colby's hand injury from two months ago made perfect sense to Don and he promised never to piss off Agent Undiano when sparring with her in the future.

Lady Marguerite, aka Maggie Undiano, shifted her helm to the hand she was already holding her swords in, then extended her right hand to Colby, who returned the gesture, and the two agents ended up grasping each other's forearms instead of hands like Don had expected. Maggie's clear soprano voice rang out across the field without her needing to shout. "Sir Cathaoir, the fight was a good one and, had you not taken the hit to the head earlier in the match, I doubt I would've slipped past your guard like that. Your life is yours, as is your armor. Frankly, it wouldn't fit anyway."

The crowd roared in laughter and approval as the Referee lead the combatants from the field and, soon enough, Colby was approaching his tent and clearly trying to extricate himself from the advances of a rather buxom blonde in a serving wench's outfit. She finally got the hint, but not without pouting about it, and Granger looked up to see his teammates waiting for him next to Larr… Luitger. The happy, but exhausted, expression his face dropped like a rock to be replaced by one that Don could only describe as 'embarrassed consternation.'

He waited until he was closer before addressing them. "Megan, Don, David … what brings you here? Didn't think this was your sort of thing." Granger dropped his weapons into the tent, and started to work at the fastenings of his armor, only to have his hands batted away by Larry who'd stepped in to help the younger man.

Don shook his head at the antics of Larry, but couldn't miss the sigh of relief Colby let loose when the first layer of armor - a mass of small metal plates woven into leather - fell away. "I didn't think this was your sort of thing either, Granger. Didn't you get enough combat in the Army?"

"Thanks, Larry." Colby picked up the discarded armor and tossed it into the tent before turning back to face his team leader. "This is very different from that, Don. That was bloody, muddy and messy. This is more … well, _fun_." The grin that lit up Granger's face was hard to miss and Megan started to chuckle.

"Don, leave the poor boy alone. He's clearly used to using this stylized, chivalrous combat to help him deal with the stress of our jobs." She told Don as she continued to keep one eye on Larry and the other on the crowds moving around the area.

Granger nodded a 'thanks' toward Reeves, before turning his full attention to Sinclair. "I suppose you're going to give me grief over my choice of hobbies now, David?" He removed a thickly padded and quilted tunic, tossing that into the tent after the armor, just as Larry ducked into the tent and came out with a pail of water and a couple of large rags.

David shook his head. "Nope. Just wondering why you hadn't told me, us, your fellow team members you were into this quasi-Conan Bee-Ess." The smile on David's face softened the blow of his words, but even Don had to agree with the man, why _hadn't_ Granger told them about this rather interesting diversion of his? Don couldn't help but shiver in sympathy when Colby - who had removed a final shirt of loosely woven linen and was now just wearing some sort of leather trousers and soft boots - ducked his head into the bucket of water, then soaked one rag and started to wipe down his body. The weather was warm, but there was a cooling breeze blowing at approximately 10 miles per hour and that had to feel damn cold on damp skin, no matter how balmy it had gotten inside the armor Granger had been wearing.

"It's in my files, David. I've been an official member of the Society since I was 18, but I was also practically raised within the group, just like my brothers, as both my parents are founding members in the Barony back home." Larry had thrown one of the dry rags at Don earlier and now that Colby was clearly done washing the majority of sweat from his body, Don handed the roughly natural fiber cloth to him to dry off with. "Thanks, Don. Now, tell me, what brings all of you here and don't tell me it's my fighting skills."

Don smiled at that. Colby could be a smartass and sometimes his acerbic remarks could be better timed, but today, the dry wit was just what Don needed to hear. "The case against Eduardo Rojas went up like a ballistic missile today. We got the final proof that he was personally involved in the homicides of LAPD Officer Robert Harris and DEA Agent Martha Graysen."

Colby had looked away to toss the now damp towel into the building pile inside the tent but turned back sharply when Don had mentioned Rojas. "Wait a minute … he's _here_?" Don nodded an affirmative. "Spectator or participant?"

Don noticed Granger's eyes started to scan the crowds, just as David and Megan had been doing all along. He had a good team who knew their jobs and how best to just get them done. "I think he's a participant, Granger. None of us have been able to ID him and yet the GPS signal from his cell phone shows that he's in the park, just not exactly where."

Granger nodded. "And if he was here as just a spectator, you'd have him by now. He's got to be a participant and in full gear. David, you watched his practice last week, right?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Standard preparation … the fighters practice before a Tourney you wear what you're going to do most of your fighting in. Conditioning. What was he wearing?"

"I don't know how to describe it … but the helmet was a lot like the one the winner in the bout before yours was wearing. Kinda reminded me of a bird's beak."

At this point, the look that suddenly whizzed between Colby and Larry just before Doctor Fleinhardt disappeared into the tent sidetracked Don. The Professor returned carrying what looked like a bowling ball case, but when Larry opened it, he pulled a helmet out instead of a ball. "You mean this helmet, David?"

Don would've laughed at Megan's shocked and bug-eyed expression had the situation been less serious. However, there was a cop killer loose in the crowd and they had to do everything they could to bring the sonuvabitch in and if that meant shocking a few agents - like Don himself - who were surprised to find out that the mild mannered, slightly forgetful Doctor Fleinhardt was a fighter … so be it.

"Exactly like that … wait a minute, that was _you_?" David quizzed as Colby let loose a chuckle.

"David, remind me one day to tell you about Pelican Sir Luitger von Helwig … he's somewhat of a legend in the Kingdom of Caid." Colby took the helmet from Larry and handed it to Megan. "That's a visored bascinet style. Not too many fighters wearing that type of helmet today that I saw. The front will probably, like Larry's here, lift up like the visor on a full-face motorcycle helmet." Megan quietly handed the helmet off to Don who studied the construction of the object before handing it off to David for him to look over.

"I take it that is not a common style these days?" Don asked of both Larry and Colby.

"No, peripheral vision is severely limited in that type of helm and most of our younger fighters prefer the more open face styles or full coverage helms with open grills." Larry explained.

"Sounds like it'll make it easier to spot him among the still helmeted fighters then." Don mused.

"_If_ he's still helmed. A lot of us prefer to strip out of our fighting armor and helms as soon as possible." Larry observed while Colby nodded in agreement.

"Still it gives us a better chance to find him now that we know what he might be wearing." Don needed a way to get a least one more of his team, other than Granger, in among the fighters without drawing too much attention. "Larry, I hesitate to ask you this--"

Larry raised a hand, stopping Don mod-sentence. "Say no more, Don. I'd be more than happy to escort Mi'Lady around and provide a expert eye as needed."

Colby slipped into a black colored linen shirt, then draped a huge amount of silver chainmail over it and then added a final layer of riveted leather scale mail on top of the other layers. "My feast gear." He explained. "I'll see what I can dig up from the Marshals covering today's events and the List Registrations. Some fighters don't stick around for the Laurels and the Marshals tend to gather both the Societal and Mundane names of the fighters, just in case."

The team dispersed, blending into the crowds as best they could, with Don losing track of Colby within a few steps and Megan and Larry were lost to the crowd a few minutes later. David took a little longer to disappear, but Don saw that he solved part of the problem by buying a 'robin hood' cap that matched his jeans and tee shirt from a local vendor. Leaving Don as the oddball out, dressed as he was in black jeans, a lightly starched white shirt and his straw golfing hat.

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Colby left his tent, knowing full well that no one would screw around with it, not with Pavel sitting on one side and Bjorn on the other. Both men were huge and had the look of serious SCA fighters; or Hell's Angels, which both were - in their other lives. However, in their mundane lives, Bjorn was actually a computer repair technician and Pavel was a food critic for the LA Times. Weaving through the crowds, Colby looked for Maggie's tent and found it around 10 spots down from his and gave her a fast update on the situation, knowing she would want to help if she could and the extra eyes wouldn't hurt.

Moving through the throngs of mundanes which had come out of the woodwork on this fine day to watch the events and to just revel in the faire attitude of the Tourney, Colby kept his eyes open looking for Eduardo Rojas. He was pretty sure he wouldn't find the man on his own, but more than one person moving together in tandem through this crowd when they weren't obviously a couple or a family with kids in tow might give the agents away to the sharp lawyer. Slowly but surely he made his way toward the large canvas pavilion where the List Marshals were stationed.

As he stepped into the shade provided by the tent, Colby realized one of the people on duty was the woman who'd all but nibbled his neck after the fight with Maggie. Maybe he could use that attraction of hers to his advantage? He was pretty sure she wasn't a Marshal, there just weren't a large number of women in those ranks and none of the ones who he knew, for a fact, were counted among the multitude of Caid Marshals would dress like a serving wench. He hoped.

He stepped up beside the woman, who was actually filing her nails - it wasn't that busy inside the pavilion, and tapped her on the shoulder. When she looked up at him, Colby flashed what he hoped was a sincere smile of appreciation. "Hi there, remember me?"

"Sir Kath-air, right? Newest Marshal in the kingdom." She stood up, slipping her emery board into one of the pockets of her skirt. "Thought you told me to … how did you put it? Oh yeah, 'go find another warrior to service'."

Colby had the decency to avert his eyes from her in a downward, abashing move. "Yeah, well, I realized I was a bit harsh and came to apologize. I've been looking for you all over and lucked out when I spotted you in here." He looked around the tent, realizing most of the others who where manning the station had either disappeared or had moved away from the corner he was in with … "I never did catch your name?"

"I never gave it before … but it's Ophelia. That's both my Societal and Mundane name." She moved in closer to Colby and lowered the sleeves of her top, which effectively lowered the top of her blouse to, once again, display her ample charms. "What can I do for you, Sir Kath-air?"

He tried, and failed, to keep his eyes centered on her face, but he was getting tired of listening to her mangle his name. "It's pronounced 'Kay-Her.' I just need to see if an sometime acquaintance of mine made it to the Tourney and what events he might have participated in." Colby reached out and gently ran his fingers lightly over the smooth, and exposed, skin on Ophelia's shoulder, trying to get her to agree to what he was about to suggest. "I know you could probably find his List registration, even if I can't recall his Societal name, couldn't you, Ophelia?"

"Certainly. But there's a _fee_ for my digging through the registrations … it's not like I can just type in a name and poof there is the information you want. I'll have to go through these by hand and that could take a while. Even if you helped me." The invitation was clear and Colby wasn't sure he was immune to Ophelia's allure, but was the 'price' going to be worth finding Rojas and tossing his ass into jail for double murder?

"All right … name your price, Milady, and I'll gladly assist you in the search and willing pay your fee." After all, she wasn't a bad looking woman. Her hair was naturally blonde, her eyes were an interesting shade of gray-blue hazel and her 'ample charms' weren't so ample that they distracted from her heart-shaped face. Or hourglass figure.

"Sir Cathaoir, my 'price' is simple … I want a date. Tonight, if you want, after the Queen's Feast?"

"Why then? Are you camping here?" Things were looking up if she wasn't from the LA area…

"I'm down here from Paradise, so, yes, I decided to camp all weekend. I'm over in the Camel-Lot section, the only two-man pup tent that's black and purple. Meet me there after?"

"Paradise is short one angel and, yes, I'll meet you afterwards." He slid around the table, purposely bumping into Ophelia, who purred her content as she grasped his waist to keep from falling over. He leaned down and growled into her ear so no one else could hear him, "Maybe tonight I'll convince you to stay an extra night or two, my dear Ophelia."


	4. Chapter 4

**The Secret Life of Colby Granger**

By: Suisan (w/Asst from Amy D)

Numb3rs Fandom

**Synopsis**: Granger has another life away from the FBI -- his two worlds are about to collide.

**A/N**: The title is somewhat borrowed/paraphrased from James Thurber. This story totally ignores events of The Janus List (season 3 episode 24) but ties into the events of the stories of "_Heat Wave_" & "_Arsenic and New Kevlar_" by Amy D. and myself.

**Warnings**: You want warnings, go somewhere else … seriously. I write adult language stories for adult or mature readers. There is, without a doubt, characters cussing like cops in this story - and probably some innuendo of a sexual nature as well. If that sort of thing 'bothers' you, I suggest you stop reading right now and never read anything else with my name attached to it.

Was that enough of a warning for you?

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Part Four (final)

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Around 15 minutes prior to the Queen's Feast and Laurel Ceremony, Colby had located Don and gave him the "society name" he and the others would need to listen for at the feast. Then he pressed three spectator tickets, with 'below the salt' printed on them, for the feast into Don's hand before disappearing into the crowd gathering before the hall. Don hadn't been amused when Granger, now to be thought of as "Cathaoir" in Don's mind, had informed him that there was a better than 60 chance that Eduardo Rojas had changed from his fighting armor into something completely different for the feast and award ceremony. Don pulled his com-link up and called for Reeves and Sinclair to join him before the huge hall that was hosting the night's big event could fill up beyond capacity. Before they moved inside with the shuffling mob, he gave both of his agents the information Granger had been able to gather, while wondering if he really wanted to ask the younger agent how he got it or if it was just better not to ask and, therefore, be able to claim plausible deniability later.

Inside, the décor impressed and somewhat intimidated Don Eppes. The exposed post and beam construction of the hall / barn suited the overall feel of the SCA, and the many banners, shields and other devices hanging from the walls and ceiling only added to the overall atmosphere. Turning to find Megan and David standing right beside him with their mouths hanging open, Don didn't feel so alone in his state of overwhelm. "Could they have gone any more overboard with the whole Hogwarts influence?" He muttered, not really expecting either of his agents to answer.

"It's less Potter and more … I dunno … _Ivanhoe_?" David quietly responded before shaking his head and moving deeper into the crowd.

Megan led the way toward the other side of the hall as soon as Don had spotted where, and for whom, David was moving in the direction of. Agent Maggie Undiano was dressed in a long, blue tunic draped over an off white underdress and was waving David over to where she stood on the sidelines. One side of the hall was now covered by those two and Don and Megan were moving into position on the other side … which Don noticed just happened to place them, conveniently so, close to the group that Larry was a part of.

Not begrudging Reeves this opportunity to learn more about Doctor Fleinhardt, Don kept his eyes busy scanning the multitude of armor clad or sword-carrying warriors in hopes of spotting Rojas before the feast started. He really had no desire to screw this night up for this interesting group of reenactors and if Don could find Rojas and move him out of the hall with a minimum of fuss before arresting him, that would be so much better than causing a scene.

Megan reached over and pinched his arm, drawing his attention to a corner behind what Don thought might be the Royal Table … there was Colby, _Sir Cathaoir,_ in a heated discussion with another man wearing a white tunic with a red 'crusader' cross emblazoned on it. "What do you think that is? Some sort of pre-feast debate?"

"No clue, but it's clearly not making Granger happy. See? He's gesturing for the couple wearing the crowns to join them."

"Granger, what _are_ you doing?" Don mused allowed as he kept one eye on his armor-clad agent and the people around him even as he kept one eye on the crowd searching for Rojas.

A man and woman dressed in similar clothing, at least color-wise, stepped into the huge open space between the tables set around the edges of the hall and, after ringing a couple of huge cowbells to get everyone's attention, the man called out to the crowd. "Lords, Ladies, Gentlefolk … please take your places according to your rank or, in the case of our many guests, according to your tickets. All gentlefolk with 'above the salt' tickets will have places at the tables. All those with 'below the salt' tickets will experience the feast the way the serfs did in medieval times. Please sort yourselves accordingly and the servers will start making the rounds shortly. Thank you."

"'Below the salt?' Guess Granger couldn't get anything better." Megan groused as she stepped back against the wall behind her and Don to let a few people past.

"Could be worse, Reeves." Don joined her against the patch of wall and waited until he felt her eyes bore a hole into his skull before answering. "We could be standing outside with the others trying to figure out where Rojas was."

"True … got him!" Megan's voice dropped to where Don could hear her, but he seriously doubted the people around her did.

"Where?" Don asked, his nerves on fire as the first adrenaline rush hit his blood stream.

Megan raised a hand, carefully not pointing directly at the man, and gestured as she turned as is if to whisper into Don's ear. "There, just before the Royal table, the first table on the other side … fourth, no, fifth person moving away from the high end, the one wearing the green and gold brocade?"

"Got him. _Brocade_? That is a man firmly convinced of his machismo." Don quipped.

"Don, take a look around … there are all sorts of men, from rail-thin foppish types to overbuilt like bears types, dressed in brocades and silks, not to mention the scads of velvet and satin. It really doesn't look that far out of place from what I recall of my Western Civilizations studies."

"Nor from mine … but the fop in the baby-blue and pink frills?" Don shook his head, "You can't tell me that one's a warrior type."

"Don't judge the book by the cover, Eppes. Luitgar and I watched that man take apart an opponent in the fencing list right after Lady Marguerite and Sir Cathaoir's little demonstration." Don wondered if Megan had even noticed that she'd used Larry Fleinhardt's SCA name.

Before he could respond, the hall erupted with blaring horns sounding an off-key fanfare, even as the man from the earlier announcement stepped back into the center area. "Lords, Ladies and Gentlefolk … the King and Queen of Caid!"

The crowned couple Don had seen talking with Colby, damn, _Cathaoir_ earlier came into the hall at the end furthest away from the high table and with great bearing and careful pacing, slowly and regally made their way to the ornate chairs at the center of the high table and took their seats. Apparently, this was some sort of unspoken signal to the costumed revelers, for as nearly one massive body; they all took their seats on the benches at the lower tables.

Soon after that, there was a flurry of movement at the doors behind the high table and a battalion of servers carrying platters or flagons invaded the hall, passing out the goodies on their plates according to rank. Don and Megan got a chance to grab disposable cups of apple cider and then a whole grain roll stuffed with … Don wasn't sure he wanted to look too close … some sort of spicy, ground meat. He couldn't help but notice the whole meats being served to the high table and the cold meats being presented for the tables just below that. "Must be nice to be the king."

Megan nodded. "From what I recall, this is fairly accurate … I'm pretty sure they'd have the dogs running loose and digging through hay on the floor for bones if the county and state health inspectors wouldn't throw a massive conniption fit."

"Feudal system … glad I didn't live back then … this is all sorts of non-equality in action." Don had finished his meat-stuffed roll and started to sip, slowly, on the cider, as he wasn't entirely sure the stuff hadn't fermented.

"We still have the separation of the haves and have-nots, you know that, Eppes."

"Yeah, it's just not this in-your-face."

The two agents fell into a companionable silence as they kept their eyes on Eduardo Rojas, until he happened to gaze in their direction, then they took turns not looking at him. Soon the tables were cleared and the Master of Ceremonies stepped forward again to announce the First of the Laurels. It was for one of the young squires, fighters, who had show himself to be well-trained in archery earlier in the day, but not quite good enough to be named Champion of the list. That went to an older gentleman who looked enough like the young squire that neither Don nor Megan were surprised to hear he was the squire's father.

They suffered through six more awards, mostly for the younger participants and those from the arts and sciences and equestrian events, before things started to perk up. There was a reading of names of those Marshals, the combat referees, who were retiring from active duties, and the awarding of new Marshal appointments, including the only All-Around Marshal card going to Sir Cathaoir Fridrikssen.

The first combat skills award, or laurel, was handed out to the Sword on Sword (no shields) competitors and Don surprised himself by no longer being stunned that women were just as spirited in their fighting as the men. The Champion of the Sword on Sword was a woman going only by the name of "Crowslark" and, after getting a good look at the raven-haired beauty, Don was willing to admit he wouldn't want to piss that particular female off. The next two laurels were given for Pole Arm combatants and the Archers, then the Master of Ceremonies beckoned toward where Eduardo Rojas was standing on the side lines and the lawyer stepped forward.

"In the Sword on Shield combat, the competition ended in what the Marshals would only call a draw, but as one of the winners is a past Champion with no desire to serve in that role while also serving as a Pelican, Sir Luitgar von Helwig has deferred to Sir Eleuterio de Escarra Ruiz." The gathered crowd applauded politely for Rojas', giving Don the impression that the lawyer wasn't as well liked as other fighters in the Society. No one protested as four federal agents moved in even as a fifth dressed in leather armor over chainmail and leather pants, also stepped forward from his place on the raised dais to stand directly beside the MC. What seemed to stun the audience into a crashing silence was the way the Sir Cathaoir had laid a hand on the arm of the MC, effectively stopping the older gentleman from laying the wreath of mock laurels on the bowed head of Sir Eleuterio.

"Halt, Sir Nikodim." Cathaoir turned to face the thrones even as Sir Eleuterio surged to his feet with a silent snarl of rage. "Your Majesties, I beg forgiveness, but Mundane duties of mine take precedent over my duties here as a newly carded Marshal." Colby turned back to face Rojas, and Don almost felt sorry for putting Granger into a position where his real life job came to light in front of all his fellow achronistic enthusiasts. Almost.

"Eduardo Rojas…" Colby had pulled his badge out from under his armor and held it up for Rojas to see. "…You're under arrest."

As he'd hoped, and had predicted to David prior to the Feast, the murdering scum tried to bolt, only to run smack into Sinclair. Then Granger had come up from behind - literally taking a flying leap off the dais - and the two agents took Rojas down so fast and cuffed him that it was over before the crowd could draw a collective breath.

Don stepped up to Rojas, who had been hauled back to his feet by Granger, and looked the seething man directly in his dark brown eyes. "Did you think you'd be able to get away with murder of cops, Rojas? Did you honestly think the LAPD and the FBI would be so stupid as to miss the connections between you and a certain drug cartel? Or that Officer Robert Harris and DEA Agent Martha Graysen hadn't left clues behind as to who the hell killed them?" The lawyer was smart enough to stay silent and Reeves and Sinclair dragged him out of the hall, to thunderous applause from the crowd.

Maggie Undiano and Granger took the acclaim in stride and just bowed gracefully, then lead Don out of the cleared area and the hall. "They think its part of the entertainment, Don, that's all." Maggie explained as the three of them moved away from the hall. She looked over her shoulder, then shrugged. "I'm heading back to my tent. I might as well slither off in silence and pray my participation in tonight's events quickly gets overwhelmed by the rumors of Sir Cathaoir's heroic encounter with a wanted killer."

Don watched as Maggie slipped off into the dark, and then turned to Granger. "Are you going to be in trouble for what you did in there, Colby?"

"Nah. I explained to the current King and Queen and Chief Kingdom Marshal what was up and why we had to take Rojas down when and where we did."

"But what Maggie suggested.…" Don questioned the younger agent.

Colby shrugged, making the leather plate armor he was wearing creak. "Society members will take the story and embellish it so much that by the time they travel to An Tir's West War, I'll have taken Sir Eleuterio down bare-handed and armorless while he came at me with live steel. Then I'll spend the week telling the 'real' story, which no one will believe by the way, and the whole incident will become SCA folklore."

Don couldn't help but laugh, the way Colby explained the grapevine of the SCA sounded a lot like the rumor mills that operated on any college or university campus across the world. Once he calmed down enough to speak without chortling, Don gave Colby one last order for the day. "Pencil a rough report on your part of the arrest, give it to me or Reeves, then get back to your weekend off, _Sir Cathaoir_."

"Thank you, Sir Eppes." Granger bowed, then turned back to enter the hall, where events had obviously continued after the departure of the law and their prisoner. Don was surprised to see a pretty blonde dressed as a wench - as he had learned over the course of the day's events - come out of the hall to greet Colby, then the two of them disappeared into the darkness on the other side of the hall. Maybe there was something to be said about the attraction women had for guys in armor.

"Too bad Kevlar doesn't count here." Don muttered to himself as he started the long walk back to his car.

**End**

**After Notes**: Many of the events and actions that I have attributed to the Society for Creative Anachronism are _partially_ based on fact, but are not exact and that was not done to disrespect the SCA, it's Kingdoms, Baronies or Shires. Nor was any disrespect meant toward the people who make the SCA such a lovely way to spend a weekend (observing) or way, way too much money and time on such things as armor, period clothing and other 'archaic' devices and skills (participants). One event in the story that definitely would NOT take place at any SCA Sanctioned Event is the forfeiting of Armor in a tournament or demonstrative bout. That is something I took directly from my Western Civilizations studies from the period surrounding Black Prince Edward.

**After Notes 2**: I meant what I said earlier about '_warnings_' - if you have, after everything I wrote earlier, read this entire story and have only just NOW decided that I have somehow 'upset your tender, delicate' moral compass … it's your own damn fault. No sense complaining to me; **I DID**, after all and against my better judgment, **WARN YOU**!


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